


Broken

by BasementVampire



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, Marvel Universe, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Civil War (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasementVampire/pseuds/BasementVampire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony hasn't been holding up so well after the events of Civil War. With Pepper out of the picture, no word from Steve, and things in New York left totally fucked up, he feels like his life is falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! This is just a short thing that inspiration dragged out of my sleep-deprived, midnight mind, but since I just had to write it, I figured I'd post it here. I've been dealing with anxiety and panic attacks for years, so maybe this is just my way of sorting that all out in my own mind, but fuck it, I needed an excuse to write about what's going on with Tony after Civil War, so if that ends up being some subconscious projection of my own lame-ass emotions, so be it.  
> But I digress. Without further ado, here is the fanfic!

Water sloshed over the side of Tony’s glass and trickled slowly to the floor.  The droplets fell to the hardwood in a sort of agonizing slow-motion as Tony watched, his hand shaking so violently he feared he might drop the glass altogether.

Not for the first time, he thought how much he hated this.  He hated that he couldn’t even get a glass of water without possibly being reduced to this shaking, hyperventilating mess.  His heart was racing and his stomach was tied in knots and it felt like he was suffocating.

Tony slid to the floor with his back against the counter.  He carded a hand through his hair, breath hitching as he gasped for air.

Chemical imbalance—that’s what some article online had said about anxiety when Tony was researching it.  A chemical imbalance, that was all, nothing to worry about.  But it didn’t help him feel any less fucked up.

Tony set his cup on the floor next to him and pulled his legs up to his chest.  He hated this.  He felt weak, pathetic.  He was Iron Man, for God’s sake, and there he was on the floor of his kitchen, shuddering and gasping.

He fisted his hands in his hair and curled in on himself, a desperate sob wracking through his body.  Usually, Tony held himself together; if he had a panic attack in public or while he was around other people, there was some measure of control.  Adrenaline or his attempt to get over the attack unnoticed by his friends or acquaintances kept him from completely freaking out.  But here, alone in the dark, in the dead hours of the night, Tony couldn’t help but fall apart.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t hate himself even more for crying.  He felt pitiful, tears streaming down his face, chest heaving as he gasped between sobs.  It was like he’d lost the last bit of composure he might have had.

Useless.  He was fucking useless.

He was supposed to be a hero, and he couldn’t even save himself from this.

Tony wasn’t sure how much time passed before it stopped.  He leaned back against the counter, taking deep breaths and wiping at his wet, blotchy face with his hand.  This was no better, though.  Now, he just felt empty and scared and alone.

Tony closed his eyes.  All he could do now was return to a bed that felt too cold in a house that felt too big.  And when he woke up—if he was able to sleep, that is—he’d be back to a life where he felt too alone.

Pepper had left him.  “Taking a break” was how she’d put it.  But Tony knew she wasn’t coming back as long as he continued to be Iron Man, and he couldn’t abandon something that was so much a part of himself.

Steve was gone.  Tony didn’t know where he was; they hadn’t talked since the incident with Barnes.  Tony wanted to—god, he wanted to hear Steve’s voice, know he was okay, but Tony wouldn’t have known how to contact him even if he’d had the guts to do it.

The Avengers were falling apart.  Between everything that had happened in the last couple months, the team was a wreck at best, nonexistent most of the time.  At this point?  Barely even on speaking terms.

Tony stumbled into his bedroom on still-shaky legs.  He thought of drowning it all out with a good, hard drink, but the idea of getting pissed drunk and passing out alone on his couch again made him feel even more pathetic.  Plus, waking up with a nasty hangover was probably the last thing he needed after this mess of a night.

Tony climbed into bed, hand scrubbing at his tired face.  He curled up in his nest of blankets and pillows that, no matter how comforting it was, never quite succeeded in making the bed feel less empty.

Despite how his mind was racing, Tony soon felt sleep setting in; his eyelids closed heavily and his body felt like it was sinking into the mattress.  It was with a sort of relief that he let sleep overtake him—like maybe he could escape this all, if only for a few hours.  Just for a little while, he could forget how broken he really was.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and if you did, maybe leave a comment/kudos? Thanks! :)


End file.
